Eventually You
by swizzasnake
Summary: A Post-Hogwarts story. How do you reconcile when you've changed so much and yet so little? (Post-OotP)
1. A Gathering At The Leaky Cauldron

Disclaimer; I own none of these characters or their world, they belong to J. K . Rowling and all attendant publishers, movie studios, games manufacturers etc. I'm only playing in their sandbox with no intention of making a profit.

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Eventually You

A Post-Hogwarts Story

~~~

Chapter One - A Gathering At The Leaky Cauldron

~~~

Sometimes, thought Ginny, her patience wearing thin as yet another passing wizard gave her a wan smile, _it really sucks to be me._

The twenty-year-old redhead was sitting at a long table in The Leaky Cauldron, awaiting her friends and family, several of which she knew would be even later than she herself usually was. It had been pure good fortune that she was on time today, the sleet and altogether maudlin weather encouraging her to stay at home before Apparating to London, rather than attempting any work in which she would have been sure to become immersed.

Catching sight of the clock behind Tom's old and so familiar bar, Ginny heaved another sigh, seeming to the passing elderly witch entirely too world-weary to come from one so small and young; but then this _was_ a Weasley, and all the wizarding knew of their importance in the Second War, as surely as they knew of Harry Potter. But the witch did not dwell, knowing just as surely how much that same public knowledge was unwanted and unappreciated.

Ginny, lost in her thoughts and memories, had not seen the small old lady pause, a look of profound sadness and wonder in her watery eyes, but was shortly after jerked back into the bustling reality of The Leaky Cauldron by an all-too-familiar set of faces at the door. A tall gangly man, his long nose as ruddy as his hair from the cold, accompanied a bundled-up woman with bushy brown hair escaping from beneath her woollen hat. Hot - or maybe _cold_ - on their heels came an equally-frozen looking pair; a round-faced man with a sweet, open face and a dreamy-looking blonde, her large eyes looking surprised at finding herself there. The foursome almost immediately spotted the flaming mane of Weasley red, and hastily crossed the pub to her.

The youngest Weasley smiled, grateful for her hair at that singular moment; no one could lose any of her family in a crowded place, the hair was like a beacon. _At last, some company, _she thought, getting up to seize her brother in a freezing hug which left her supremely sympathetic to the chattering teeth of the bedraggled foursome at the table. She helped Neville out of his sodden cloak as Hermione conjured a Bluebell Flame around which they all sat, huddled.

"So Gin," her brother said, his thawing face regaining its frank, wide grin, "How's my favourite sister today?"

"I'm your only sister, Ron." Ginny gave him a distracted smile as movement at the door caught her eye once again. Turning she saw the arrival of yet more of her nearest and dearest; identical redheads laughing raucously, a cheery-looking young man clutching a camera, an aging yet kindly-looking man talking amiably with a foreboding man whose scarred face looked worse than usual in the somewhat dim light of the tavern. As these figures approached the table Ginny was able to see a fair few more familiar faces and was glad that she'd had the foresight to steadfastly hang onto this table upon her arrival - it was starting to look as if the crowd amassing would need most of it.

The chatter grew slowly in volume as introductions were made and acquaintances renewed. Colin began taking pictures as if the group were apart to flee in terror at any moment. Ginny gave a grim smile as she made her way to the bar for another Butterbeer - it was a normal reaction to try and rush; the Second War had taught everyone how precious time was, and just how little of it some people got. The young woman berated herself sharply as she accepted her Butterbeer and change from Tom; now was _not_ the time for pointless reminiscences. _This_ was a celebration, after all - it wasn't every day that your brother and his best friend became certified Aurors, now was it?

Resolving to keep spirits - her own and the company's - fixed on jollity and fun, she sank into the chair beside Ron, opposite Neville with a smile. She listened to Luna's recount of her father's recent adventure to Milton Keynes in search of the ever-elusive Green-Toed Platypillar - "It's a very rare creature, you see, and can only be seen on Wednesday afternoons..." as she gazed at the almost complete arrangement of faces at the table. The group contained several older yet still oh-so-familiar faces from Hogwarts - mostly her seniors but a few, like Luna, from her own year; Lavender and Parvati giggled at her own end of the table, while Seamus was hearing all about West Ham's latest match from a near-hysterical Dean - "You wouldn't be_lieve_ it, it was like, _whoa_..." - Ginny wasn't sure whether Dean's seemingly imminent heart attack should worry her or whether she should feel more concern for the trapped-looking Seamus. Further down and on her left Professor Moody was in quiet and intense conversation with another old teacher, Professor Lupin - Ginny's mind just couldn't bring itself to call them anything but 'Professor', however many times she told her subconscious off. Beside Lupin, and separated from Ginny by Hermione and Ron, who were gazing adoringly at each other (this seemed to be the source of at least _some_ of Lavender and Parvati's giggling, Ginny noted with a mental eye roll) sat Ginny's own dear friend Nymphadora Tonks - or, as she preferred, 'just plain Tonks'. Her hair was its habitual short and spiky pink, and Ginny noted she was in her favourite outfit of customised jeans and a _Weird Sisters_ t-shirt, which made Ginny remember the Order's 'meeting' with the Dursleys at the end of her fourth year when Tonks had looked just as she did now. She was grinning unrepentantly across the table at the Weasley twins - Fred and George were in fits of hysterical laughter over whatever it was she had just said, and Ginny saw that even Professor Lupin - _Remus, _her brain chided - was trying to suppress a smile.

"Ginny?" 

She turned, face quizzical, and was suddenly bathed in blinding purple light, causing her to squeak and flap her hand before her face.

"Colin..." she sighed, exasperated - a habit she had doubtlessly picked up from her mother - and trying to hide her happiness at seeing Colin so like his old self for once. He grinned at her, and she was utterly unable to prevent herself from grinning back; since the death of his brother Dennis in their fifth year at Hogwarts, Colin had been through a lot, and Ginny delighted in seeing her friend actually _living_ again. However, he was _never_ above chastisement where and when it was deserved. "Don't you have enough pictures of me yet? I do _live_ with you, after all."

Her friend's grin was completely lacking any remorse when he chirped, "But you looked like you needed waking up!" He ruffled her hair as he walked past, eager to snap pictures of Tonks as she reduced the twins to little more than giggling heaps with her anecdotes, snatches of which floated down to table to Ginny.

"...and then he says 'Well what's the point now Tonks? You've woken it up!' So then-"

The terrific flash of Colin's camera cut her off with a yelp of surprise and she turned, over-balancing in typical Tonks fashion and falling off her chair with a second high-pitched noise. This sent not only Fred and George but the whole table into gales of laughter which set Hermione's bluebell flame fluttering until she had the presence of mind to disperse it; she knew, just as Ginny did, that if she didn't it would likely end with someone getting set on fire.

Once Tonks had established herself back in her seat to the accompaniment of Colin's giggle-coated apologies and the chatter had once again settled itself down to a pleasant buzz, Ginny found herself talking with Neville about his new job - he had recently taken a job at a small Herbological estate in Lancashire which supplied both Diagon Alley and Hogwarts among its many clients. 

"And there're these plants that're _so_ rare, I'd barely even heard of some of them... It's just so _nice _there Gin, and it's so lovely to be able to be near home again, y'know?"

Ginny had seen Neville pine for his home when they had been forced into hiding during the War, and was immensely happy on his behalf; she had also felt a personal thrill at being able to create a stable base without fear of its being discovered and destroyed. Her home may not be a palace, but she and Colin had scraped for it and it was every inch _theirs,_ right down to the threadbare sofa cushions and messy bedrooms. Ginny in return told Neville - and Luna, who at least _appeared_ to be listening - about her job at the Magical Menagerie, with all its attendant craziness and mishaps. She related how, only last week, Mundungus had wandered in, only to knock into a fire-crab's cage and get himself badly singed. He'd also had something fairly flammable secreted within his coat, as she recounted to Neville how his coat had emitted suspicious hissing sounds and reddish smoke as he beat a hasty retreat.

"Hey," said Ron abruptly, causing both Ginny and her audience of two to turn to him, as did Hermione and Tonks, their conversation also disrupted. "Anyone know when Harry's getting here?"

Hermione sighed, and Ginny thought wryly that maybe the blame for her own put-upon sounds did not rest _solely_ with her mother. "Ron, you _know_ where Harry is. He _told_ you he was going to make sure everything was _ready_. _Hon_estly..."

"Well, it's just that he's been a bit long, hasn't he?" said Ron. "I mean, we can hardly get started properly without him, now can we? And then we've all got to get back to The Burrow and Mum'll throw a fit if we're late..."

Hermione softened. "I'm sure he's alright, Ron. And he'll be here - he always is." Those words of wisdom imparted, she turned back to Tonks as if nothing at all had happened.

Ron, apparently not quite so eager to return to _his_ previous action of staring alternately at the talking duo and the back of Hermione's head, now turned to Ginny. "Whaddaya think, Gin? How long d'you think he'll be?"

Ginny opened her mouth, intending to more or less repeat what Hermione had just said, when Luna had one her rare moments of semi-lucidity. "Oh, he'll be alright," she said, her large eyes fixed on him. "He won't be long."

"Er... right," said Ron, in a tone of voice which Ginny had come to despise during her fourth and fifth years; it was a tone Harry and Ron adopted when they were trying to get away from her 'uncool, weird friends'. It was that tone of voice which prompted Ginny to, quite deliberately, turn her attention back to Neville with an imperious toss of her long hair.

Ginny opened her mouth to encourage Neville into returning to their conversation, when her eye was caught, for the third time that day, by a familiar presence at the door. He was slim, some would say skinny, dressed in black robes which made his hair seem impossibly blacker and his eyes, hidden behind misty glasses, an almost ludicrous green. He had spotted the amassed crowd immediately, of course - they were about as hard to miss as Professor Snape in a field of happy, dancing flowers - but he remained alone by the door, staring at the table. And Ginny stared at the silent, scarred hero she had once called her friend; Harry Potter.

~~~

Harry passed from the freezing, malicious December sleet into the welcoming warmth of The Leaky Cauldron with detached relief. Pretty much everything Harry felt was classifiable as detached these days - right down to the knowledge that his glasses were steaming up from the sudden temperature change. He heaved a huge sigh as he felt the wave of hush and the whisper of turning heads reach out, as if he were the epicentre of some strange shockwave. He felt the stares, the raised eyebrows, the near-reverent expressions, without needing to see them; he'd seen them practically every day of his life since his induction into the wizarding world. He stood straight instead, shoulders squared and chin lifted, his eyes glued to the table on the far side of the pub as his vision slowly became less misty. He saw the flashes of Weasley red and violent pink, curled his lip into a half-smile and crossed the pub to their table.

"All right, Harry?" asked Colin, grinning at him as he seized his camera off the table and snapping a picture before Harry had time to react.

The purple flash did something to alleviate his numbness, at least temporarily. He smiled grimly at Colin and confirmed his status as 'fine' before he sat down at the only space left at the table; between Neville and Dean, opposite Ginny and Colin. The mousy young man, seemingly ready to burst with excitement as if he were a first year again, started to reach for his camera. Ginny, smiling guilelessly at the camera-laden bouncing boy, reached out and plucked the camera from his grasp, setting it in Ron's lap. Colin affected a shocked look at his companion and a brief tickling match ensued, accompanied by a lot of yelps and squeaks of laughter on Ginny's part as Colin claimed victory.

Harry, for his part, did not find these happenings anywhere near as amusing as did his friends. While they cheered and laughed at the pair's antics, he sat still, unresponsive. Inside, he was brooding. It was a habit he had picked up since he began his solitary residence of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, and had escalated into an almost unbroken, perpetuating cycle, pulling him further down into memories and feelings which began the cycle anew. And right now he was brooding on the fact that Ginny and Colin could be so casually affectionate and carefree, that they could laugh and enjoy life and each other while he, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, could do nothing but watch from afar, feeling somehow... lacking. Shouldn't he be the one to laugh and cheer, wasn't it his right as the destroyer of Lord Voldemort?

He wondered once again, as the pair regained their composure and started an amiable discussion, what exactly had happened between him and Ginny since his sixth year - it had seemed that one day she had just... _lost_ it, run off and now here he was, five years later and still they behaved rather coldly towards each other, her stubbornness and his emotional baggage still a huge incumbency to any reconstruction of a friendship.

Lost as he was in his thoughts, Harry only became aware very gradually that Lupin had stood, garnering everyone's attention.

"It's my pleasure to be here, on Ron and Harry's night, to be able to say a few words of congratulations." Here Lupin paused to raise his glass, mimicked by all, "And to wish them all the best in their careers; if any pair deserve some luck, it's you two."

The chorus of cheers and laughter filtered through to Harry as he was toasted and congratulated, feeling the fog start to seep back in, dampening his mood as nothing else could, and wrapping him tightly back into his impenetrable blanket of cold, like a helpless infant in its swaddling bands.

He was ever-pleasant and polite though - making small talk and accepting the heartfelt best wishes with an endearing smile and an appropriate comment. After his fifth and sixth years, when his appalling behaviours had not only immensely irritated those around him, but permanently alienated himself from some of those closest to him. Harry spared the briefest of glances at Ginny, talking animatedly with the twins. _Yes,_ thought Harry, _some things just got messed up then, didn't they?_ But why they weren't fixed, the Boy Who Lived simply did not know.

Despite the ever-enclosing, fog, Harry had to admit that he had a good time at The Leaky Cauldron for those few hours - the talk merry and fast-moving, always something new to laugh at or watch, a recognisable face passing through the slowly emptying tavern - and he had particularly enjoyed hearing all about the new-range of products the twins had concocted for their new line. According to the incorrigible pair, the _real _niche in the market was for charmed stationary - they had a range of products in mind which would attack all except their designated owner. This had created an immensely comical image in Harry's mind of Filch being attacked by dozens of fluffy pink pencil cases, and the ensuing hilarity had brought tears of laughter to his grass-green eyes. He had, however, been intrigued, and had been assured that he could see the prototypes they had stashed well away from their disapproving mother back at The Burrow.

The end of the War had brought about many changes for Harry - indeed, he corrected himself - for _everyone_, but the thing which possibly pleased Harry the most was that The Burrow was once again the hive of bustling family hoodlum it had always been meant to be. The Weasley family had retaken full-time residence after his defeat of Voldemort (_Voldie,_ as Ginny had once memorably called him) and so it had been only natural that the family and its surrogate members should continue the celebrations back at Ottery St Catchpole's craziest-looking house.

As the group made their way outside, Harry found himself in the middle of the happy huddle, walking beside Ron and Hermione, deep in one of their bickering matches about... Harry listened for about five seconds before giving up. He'd learned long ago that trying to keep up would only give him a headache. He turned to face forward again as the group found a large fireplace at the back of the pub from which to Floo - the drinks consumed had damaged reflexes and concentration enough that Mad-Eye had decided Flooing to be the order of the day - and found himself staring straight at the back of a red mane. _Great,_ thought Harry, suddenly rooted to the spot_, I get to see the Dynamic Duo in action again. _

Ginny and Colin were arm in arm, his camera tossed over his shoulder and their heads tilted towards each other. The were both giggling almost maniacally, and Harry was almost sure form the way they stood and spoke - their voices hushed, their gestures small - that it was a private conversation. Harry sighed, feeling the fog's freezing damp seep further into his bones. _Of course,_ his internal monologue piped up, _it could just be the weather. This Floo is by the door, you know._

Harry barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes at himself, before realising just how crazy that would look; not that anyone would notice, of course. He was about to skim his eyes over the clock behind the bar for the third time in a minute when-

"Potter? Potter!" A pause in which Harry dimly registered his name, before-

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Leaping approximately three miles out of his skin and back in, all within half a second, Harry whipped his head towards the source of the eruption; Moody was pointing at the fire, his magical eye rolling crazily, and Harry scuttled forward and into the fireplace. He took a handful from the proffered bowl, cast a suitably aggrieved look at his old Professor, and with a shout of "The Burrow!" was whisked away, his last vision being of Ginny, her bright brown eyes fixed on him.

~~~

Review, if you'd be so kind. Just keep criticism constructive, ok?


	2. Night Time Dialogue

Disclaimer; I own none of these characters or their world, they belong to J. K . Rowling and all attendant publishers, movie studios, games manufacturers etc. I'm only playing in their sandbox with no intention of making a profit.

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Chapter Two - Night-Time Dialogue

~~~

The party was winding down.

The twins had Apparated home sharply after 'testing' a new product on Colin. Ginny wasn't sure exactly what it had been, but it had definitely been pink and furry. He had hurtled around the kitchen and living room in a manner almost scarily reminiscent of Pigwidgeon with the... whatever-it-was firmly attached to his nose while the twins and Harry had fallen about with laughter, being absolutely no help as she pried her best friend free. Thankfully Colin had rapidly seen the funny side, and was able to give the twins a rather detailed and decidedly helpful review of the carnivorous critter as she had cleaned up his bitten appendage. She had even giggled a little herself at the rumpus, despite a niggling feeling that 'testing' on Colin had been Harry's idea - the dark-haired boy had never truly liked either of the Creeveys.

Shortly after Ron had got very drunk and given a rather stirring rendition of the Muggle song 'Lovestruck' to a half-disapproving, half-amused Hermione before she had persuaded him into going upstairs to "sleep it off". Ginny sincerely hoped that they were _only_ sleeping. She loved her brother and Hermione dearly but... her brain simply _refused_ to deal with such thoughts.

Remus had bid her a quiet farewell a few hours ago, claiming tiredness from the full moon three nights ago. Moody had left at the same time, and although he had sounded thoroughly put out that his two new recruits were engaging in gaiety and not looking for Dark wizards in the kitchen cupboards, the youngest Weasley was sure she had seen the old man crack a smile when Tonks, loitering in the kitchen doorway beside Remus, had leaned close to the ex-Marauder as if to share a secret, but instead had spilled her Butterbeer down herself. She had always suspected that Moody was a good sport underneath all the shouts and suspicion.

Now, well past the witching hour - an expression which had always made Ginny smile, it really showed how _little_ Muggles knew - and she was sitting on the back doorstep watching the moonlight play across the surface of the pond, ornate silver on obsidian. It was quiet now, only Harry and Tonks still up - others had come and gone, and even Bill and Fleur had popped in to bestow greetings and pleasantries before heading off back to their flat - Ginny remembered her promise to go down there at the weekend to help with the never-ending wedding plans and sighed. Not that Fleur wasn't lovely, it was just that she had the unerring ability to make Ginny feel like a rather grubby street urchin.

"Wotcher, Gin," said a familiar, cheeky voice and the redhead felt a second weight settle onto the aging wooden step beside her.

She smiled out into the garden. "You do realise how old that catchphrase is, don't you? I think you need a new one, Tonks."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the now strawberry-haired Auror shrug. "Wouldn't be me if I didn't say it, now would I?" She suddenly seemed to become aware of their surroundings, and whistled. "Blimey but it's nice out here - even nicer in the dark than in the... not dark."

Ginny laughed, an honest smile lighting up her bright eyes. "Yes, it is. I just love it out here at night. It's always so quiet..."

"Quiet-loving? You? Come on, Gin - you're as bad as those brothers of yours!"

Ginny's eyes glittered in the moonlight, lending her young face a mischievous . "I may be, but I'm also the only girl and that gives me the right to be different, wouldn't you agree?"

"Well, I'd say so Gin," Tonks chuckled, and Ginny sneaked a look at her. She remembered Harry confiding in her that when Tonks looked like that - smiling and redheaded - she reminded him of Ginny a little, and a small smile crept unbidden onto her features. Tonks caught her, however, before she could turn back to the vista. "Whatcha smiling at?"

"Oh, nothing. Just something Harry said years ago... But I don't want to talk about _him,_ not now when it's so nice."

"Still not talking, then? Really, I never did work out what happened with you two - that first year I knew you two it was all good. Then wham!" Tonks smacked her hand on her knee for emphasis, "And it's still the same _now_."

Ginny sighed. "It's... complicated. And there doesn't seem any point fixing it now - we have our own lives and now I'm living away from home-"

"Oh yea... How's that going for you?" The elder girl grinned widely. "I remember my first place - real grotty and grubby - never _could_ manage those Housework Charms - but it was great."

"Oh it is... me and Colin have _such _fun. It's nice for me to have a place and things that are _mine - _not robes that used to be Percy's or books that've been subjected to the twins... And Colin just likes being out in the world again, I think. His parents pulled him out of it after fifth year."

Tonks nodded understandingly. "Parents have a habit of doing that, Gin. You should know."

"Yeah, I do. I _really_ do," Ginny murmured, and she stood, walking out to the point in the garden where it began to slope downwards slightly, where the view was best and most beautiful. She heard the sounds of Tonks mirroring her movements, and stopping to once more take in the panorama. The hills seemed to stretch away into boundless infinity, melding with the star-spangled sky seamlessly. Ginny had loved this view for as long as she could remember, and had always been rather put-out that her own room on the side of the house afforded only a partial view.

A few minutes of silence ensued, the girls watching the stars play out their nightly dance, and then...

"So?"

"So what?" Ginny raised an eyebrow, completely baffled by the Auror for what seemed like the fiftieth time tonight. Tonks had a way of being so utterly _random_ that she lost most people somewhere along the way.

"You gonna tell me 'bout you and Harry, or do I have to grill the great brooding hulk back on the sofa? 'Cause my curiosity's lit now, I _have _to know."

The Weasley smiled tiredly, resigning herself to recounting the story as briefly as she could manage, knowing Tonks would cheer her up or calm her down if she got too caught up in memory. "It was my fifth year, almost the Christmas break. Well I wasn't getting on with any of them - Ron, Hermione _or_ Harry - that well, so things were... weird..."

"Not getting on? And, before you answer, can we go into your toasty kitchen or something? I'm gasping for a cuppa tea and it's getting pretty cold out here."

Ginny laughed and nodded, and when a few minutes later when the kitchen door had been closed and had a pretty impressive Imperturbable Charm placed on it by Ginny - it was a rather useful Charm around her family - the two girls settled themselves at the scrubbed kitchen table with mugs of steaming tea in front of them, Ginny continued.

" So, like I said, things were... weird. But not," she rushed to say, "completely unexpected. They went back to how they'd always been-"

"How's that then?"

"Oh, you know... their little exclusive group. No one else can _possibly_ be worthy of their attention. Particularly the boys... It wouldn't have been so bad if they hadn't treated me... and Neville... and Luna like equals at the end of fourth year, at the Department-" Ginny stopped herself short - the loss of Sirius had been felt just as acutely by Tonks as by Harry and Lupin, and the event was generally not spoken of around them. It also allowed her a second or two to take a sip of tea and carefully remove all traces of bitterness from her voice.

Tonks' eyes, briefly closing at the mention of her cousin, were open now and looking at Ginny, open interest the prevalent emotion. The younger girl engaged in a mutually rueful smile, and said, "Sorry. So anyway things were kinda crazy for me at school - OWL year - and so I was struggling. I'm _definitely_ more like Fred and George than Bill or Percy... And then there was Quidditch, with Harry in charge and manically obsessed with trouncing the Slytherins," she snorted along with Tonks, "not that we never did that _anyway_.

"So we were heading towards Christmas, like I said. Me and Colin were, like... study buddies, I suppose. We were doing all the same subjects and I didn't see Luna often enough for her to be any use. Although she's very good if you were ever stuck on your Divination. It was the last Hogsmeade weekend, and - as usual - I was notably excluded from the 'Dream Team'," her tone on that phrase managed to make the nickname sound like a profound insult, but she didn't care to correct herself or apologise. "I met up with _my _friends and we - the four of us - headed off. Luna took Neville off to some obscure shop somewhere and I hung out with Colin in the Three Broomsticks until..." she shifted uncomfortably, "Well, you know what happened. You were _there._"

Tonks' expression was one Ginny thought she'd never get used to seeing on her friend's open, perpetually cheerful face. It was grim now, as she took a drink from her mug. "Yeah, Gin. I remember."

They both remembered, vividly, the attack on Hogsmeade that day. How the Death Eaters had Apparated all around, terrifying students, staff and public alike, and how they had trampled and Cursed all in their path. How students had been caught in the crossfire, Dennis Creevey among them.

Both allowed the silence to creep in, much to Ginny's distaste. It wasn't the friendly, trustful silence she had immersed herself in outside earlier. This was what she referred to as 'War Silence'; the type where no one wants to talk because there's nothing to say to make it better or escape the issue. _Well, _she thought,_ I don't want any more of it. The War's _over_ now._

She set her mug back on its coaster, noting absently that it was almost empty. "We... got back to the castle, and things were... _horrid_. Harry was tearing himself up - it was all over his face - and Colin was... are there any words? But with all the times people had turned on him before, Harry just... shut down. He started yelling at anyone who came near him - it was like the summer before fourth year again, back at Headquarters, only worse. Even Ron and Hermione weren't able to handle him..."

Ginny broke off to finish her tea and take the two newly empty mugs over to the teapot for more, her back to her friend as she continued. "He didn't see how much everyone else was hurting. He never has, and I know that's what makes him _Harry_ but for GOD'S sake, Colin's _brother _had _died_ - he should have at least _tried _to care for once. I don't think any of us were asking _that_ much for him to just-"

She sat back down heavily, forcing her Weasley temper back under wraps. _This _was why she didn't talk about Harry and fifth year, she got all riled up and he didn't deserve this strong a reaction - not off her, anyway.

"Gin? You ok?" The gentle voice caused her to snap back to the present, to Tonks and the Burrow's warm kitchen and its steaming tea.

"Oh, sorry. _Again_. So Harry - it's always all about Harry, isn't it? - he was just... _awful_. Really, he was. And then, one day," she shrugged, "he went too far."

Ginny looked at her, openly puzzled, and gave an extremely short and eloquent verbalisation of said confusion: "Huh?"

She smiled, despite the sombreness of their discussion. This crazily cool girl could always raise her spirits, even during loss and heartache and confusion. As she started to explain, however, her smile receded into the grieved, bereft look of all those who'd fought on the front line in the Wars. Her voice was slow and lacking its usual vibrancy as she said, "Colin came downstairs two days after the attack. He was going home with Dennis' body that afternoon. He came over to the fire in the Common Room; Harry was sitting there, Ron and Hermione were talking quietly, keeping an eye on him, and I was looking for Trevor with Neville. Colin came in and went and sat by the fire too, and Harry just... _looked _at him. This... silence went on forever, and eventually Colin started to talk. Just about how Dennis, like people _do_ when they're grieving. About little things, you know?"

Tonks nodded, her eyes sad, her demeanour subdued.

"But Harry snapped after a couple of minutes. Went off on one about how he couldn't hear that, that he felt bad enough, why was Colin saying all this, blah blah blah... As usual, Harry couldn't just let Colin do what he wanted - _needed - _to do. Preferred to sink down into his own pain, I'd wager.

"But shouting at Colin was going too far, and Ron and Hermione were in too much shock to react. But _I_ wasn't," Ginny's face was dark and foreboding, her eyes seeming darker than usual as she narrowed them, "No, I wasn't afraid of him at all."

The elder girl cut in. "So you two just had a row? That it?"

"It wasn't _just a row,_" Ginny stressed, "It was a _fight_. I'd had enough of his attitude, about everything, and I probably went too far. But he... said some pretty vile things too. Things he should _never_ have said, about my friends and my past and that stupid crush from when I was little... It got so fierce that Hermione ran to McGonagall to get us to calm down and stop."

Tonks whistled. "Wow, musta been some fight, huh? Getting a _teacher_..."

"Well, yes it was," Ginny couldn't help but grin. "It was kinda funny, too - McGonagall thought she'd be in for a relatively quiet stretch once the twins left, you could tell. Almost giddy with glee at the prospect - but then she must have seen me and Harry and thought 'Oh _no_...'"

The giggles soon became full-force guffaws at the image of Professor McGonagall conjured up, and when they finally regained control of themselves, Ginny was feeling much better, and she could tell Tonks' curiosity was satisfied.

"Well," said the aforementioned girl, draining her tea and getting up, "That's me done in. Thanks for a great chat, Gin - sleep well, won't ya?"

"Of course. You too, Tonks."

"'Night," she called as she left the room, Imperturbable Charm now gone from the door, leaving it ajar.

"Yea..." Ginny murmured, staring into her tea meditatively. Memories had surfaced as she had told the story, swirling through her head, etched into her mind as surely as her words had been etched into Riddle's diary.

__

"You're so selfish! Can't you see anything going on around you? Are you so busy being the Boy Who Lived that you don't care who you hurt along the way?"

"Yea, maybe I am_ selfish, if that's what you think. But at least I'm strong enough to _be_ selfish - I'm not just some girl too weak to protect herself from a stupid book!"_

Just some girl, he had called her. _Well, _she thought, sipping her cooling tea in the dimly-lit kitchen of the house where she had grown up,_ I'm not, Harry Potter. And you missed it._

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she failed to notice that Harry was standing in the doorway, his green eyes fixed on her as she drank her tea. So caught up that when he crossed the kitchen and sat down opposite her, she almost leapt out of her seat in shock.

~~~

Harry had been sitting on the Weasley's battered yet oh-so-comfortable sofa for an indeterminate amount of time; he had observed people's comings and goings with muted disinterest, pleading tiredness to anyone who questioned his complete lack of any attempts whatsoever to communicate.

__

Which, Harry had thought wryly, _isn't a total untruth. _He was tired all the time these days, just not in the way that sleep could cure. He was tired of... _this. _Of watching people dance and drink and joke while he trundled through his own life. Of only feeling remote and infrequent moments of joy and laughter and _life_ - although he did admit that watching Colin Creevey nearly get his nose pulled off by first the pencil case and then Ginny had been exceptionally funny - when he knew that just around the corner lay more bleak, grey near-despair of ever finding another moment like it.

He had watched Tonks get up from the armchair beside the fire and follow Ginny outside, then he had heard muffled voices, the pair returning, and then nothing more. He presumed that they'd either headed back outside - unlikely if the freezing wind blown in when they had opened the door was any indication - or they had Imperturbed the door. Harry had thrown a cushion at the door to test his theory, and had been slightly ticked off when his theory had turned out correct.

He had been sitting by the fire ever since, staring alternately into its flickering beauty and at the door to the kitchen, feeling supremely left out. It conjured up memories of fifth year, of anger at Dumbledore and Umbridge and Sirius. _Sirius,_ Harry thought, the hurt duller but no less painful no, _I wish you were here. _He also remembered other things, namely Ginny. Of fleeing the library, forbidden Easter eggs in their hands and bags hitting their heads, of sitting at the table in Grimmauld Place waiting for news on Mr. Weasley, and of Tonks and Ginny's memorable sketch performed in the kitchen right before his sixth year in which 'Voldie' and 'Lucy-Darling' had plotted the downfall of anyone and everyone they could think of. An involuntary smile crept onto Harry's features at the recollections.

When the door had opened, a happy-looking Tonks bidding Ginny goodnight over her shoulder, Harry had found himself drawn to the kitchen by some unfamiliar force he was in no way used to or prepared for. He had stood in the doorway, watching the youngest Weasley staring thoughtfully into her tea, her eyes guarded and introspective. And Harry's thoughts turned back to that fateful argument of sixth year - the fight that had driven the wedge between himself and Ginny. Words tossed out in anger and hurt that still, years later, hung heavy between them, digging away at both until a chasm was created between them.

Before he knew what he was doing, he had crossed the kitchen and sat opposite her, startling her beyond belief. She jumped, her eyes widened, and she flushed as she had when he had first known her back in his second year. But quickly, all-too quickly, she became the Ginny he had known more recently; guarded, almost-hostile eyes, her mouth set and chin lifted defiantly. _She really is startlingly like Fred and George,_ he marvelled. _All laughter and defiance._

They sat like that for a few torturous seconds, both unsure of how and why they were there. Ginny stood up to clear away the mugs, and as soon as she had left his line of sight he said, "Did you have a good time?"

A tiny pause, then she replied. "Yes I did, thank you."

"Well... good."

She sat back down, and silence reigned again. Harry, employed in musings, considered how best to start a conversation which she could not shut down with a single sentence as she just had, and was coming up blank all around. He was therefore amazed when _she_ spoke first this time.

"I thought you'd have gone home by now. Everyone else is asleep or gone. Why haven't you?"

"You're not."

"And you didn't answer the question."

Harry exhaled, slowly, before he spoke. "I didn't want to be there. Not tonight."

He thought he saw understanding flash through her eyes, but the guards snapped back up, and Harry felt irritated that she was so restrained and sharp around him. The emotion must have shown on his face, because Ginny snapped, "You don't _have_ to stay here, you know."

"I know," he shot back. "But I'm going to."

A few more moments of near-unbearable silence passed in which Harry and Ginny, had they only known it, were thinking along similar lines. Trying to pinpoint the exact point at which their burgeoning friendship had gone irreparably sour. For Ginny, it had been when Ron and Hermione had found them on the train at the beginning of her fifth year, and the threesome had told her they had 'private business' and to 'go be with her own friends'. For Harry, it had been when she had accused him of not caring during that horrible fight. The fight in which, as far as he was concerned, she had chosen Colin Creevey over him.

Both drew huge sighs, exhaling at the same time into the silent room. The synchrony suddenly seemed funny to both of them, and coupled with the tense atmosphere they had created, both let out tense giggles which persisted until Ginny smiled, rendering Harry quiet. It was the first _real_ smile he'd received from her in years, and he'd forgotten how they looked and how it felt to be the recipient of one. He felt himself smile back, an honest - if tired - smile.

Ginny's smile turned abruptly into a leonine yawn -_ For such a petite girl, she yawns hugely,_ Harry thought with an inner smile - and stood with a graceful stretch.

"Ugh, I'm off to bed, I reckon. You alright down here?"

Looking up, Harry saw that her face was less closed off than earlier - still not the open smiling face she wore around her friends - but it was an improvement. "Yes," he said, smiling again. "I will be."

And, as she turned to the door, Harry found himself watching her leave with something like reluctance. He ran a hand through his messy hair, shook his head to clear the cobwebs, and after a few minutes alone in the kitchen, started the long trek up the stairs to Ron's bedroom, still confused as to exactly _why_ he had gone into the kitchen, and _why_ for Merlin's sake he felt better now that he had.

~~~

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, they're much appreciated. Please keep reading, I _promise_ you it won't be moping and reflective like this the whole way through, and reviews are still adored and cherished.


	3. Of Aurors and Animals

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Chapter Three - Of Aurors and Animals

~~~

"So you really think it'll work?" The young Auror's was curious, his eyes fixed upon the calm, meditative face of his superior.

"Most certainly," said Kingsley, his earring swinging as he nodded his head. "Just as long as we all remember to cast the Disillusionment Charm, or it will all be for nothing, even if the device has not been Charmed in any way."

Harry nodded, satisfied. The Boy Who Lived was still learning, even after seven years of Wizarding education, three years of Auror training and a War, just how much he had missed out on by growing up in Little Whinging. Isolated for almost half of his life from the world to which he belonged, he still remained surprised from time to time, although the feeling's appearances grew more and more infrequent. _Although, _Harry reflected, _I never would have realised a Muggle burglar alarm could be fooled by a Disillusionment Charm. _Especially_ if it's in a wizarding house._

"Alright then, Harry," Harry's superior continued smoothly, "I shall expect you in the office by ten o'clock tomorrow morning, ready to go." Kingsley was stopped from continuing - if he had so wished, he was so serene that you never _could_ tell - as a pale violet paper aeroplane swooped to a rustling halt in front of his nose. The tall man took it, his eyes scanning the parchment before he pulled his quill out and scrawled a reply upon it. The paper plane, a new mission in hand - _Or maybe wing,_ Harry thought dryly - and flew off back the way it had come.

The two Aurors nodded to each other, sharing a smile of utter complicity before turning and going their separate ways, the messy black thatch and the tall bald head wholly different, yet equally distinctive. Kingsley was shortly stopped by Hestia Jones waving a _Quibbler_ article with ill-disguised glee, while the new recruit found his route unimpeded as he strode past the many cubicles. As he did, he was drawn into memories of his first visit here, the summer before his frightful fifth year; watching Mr Weasley and Kingsley discuss Order business in furtive voices as he watched, drenched with pre-hearing nerves.

Along with those memories came the ones of impotent anger, of Grimmauld Place's suppressive silences and Dumbledore's dismissals, and finally of his own terrible wrath and ultimate puerile idiocy.

Harry stopped in the corridor leading to the lift, shaking his head irritably. He didn't want to be like this - he was an Auror now and he couldn't keep on with this self-destructive glumness - and yet it snuck up on him at times, a cloying feeling of residual anger and inadequacy which he despised, as surely as he despised the Dark wizards he now hunted. He leaned back on the wall, his head bowed so low that his glasses slipped down his nose, and took a moment to quell the remembrances threatening to surface.

He was immensely relieved when, almost as soon as he looked up, he saw the immediately recognisable red hair of his best friend heading straight for him. Ron jogged up to Harry, a grin upon his freckled face.

"Hey Harry, you done for the day?" he called, grabbing his cloak from his cubicle as he passed. Harry already had his, having been on his way out prior to being halted by Kingsley.

"Yea," he replied, not bothering to ask Ron in return, since his friend was already heading for the golden grilles of the lifts. He simply walked alongside, thinking on what to do that evening; he had no plans to go anywhere, yet found the prospect of another solitary night at Grimmauld Place immensely unappealing at the moment.

Harry had officially resided at Grimmauld Place since his seventeenth birthday, thanks to some clever legal 'tweaking', as Lupin had called it, to keep the property away from Sirius' Death Eater relatives. The house had improved remarkably since his first inhabitation within its walls; the Dark Arts paraphernalia disposed of, the rooms redecorated, but perhaps two features stuck out most in Harry's mind. Firstly, the maniacal portrait of Mrs. Black had been destroyed, burned by himself and Lupin not longer after the Department of Mysteries Incident. Secondly, Kreacher had been beheaded, much to Hermione's horror. And yet, Harry spent as little time there as he could; he had never felt at home there, it still seemed somehow steeped in wartime secrecy and lifting the Fidelius Charm upon it had done nothing to alleviate that.

As the doors closed, Harry turned to Ron. "So... what are you doing now?" He tried to keep his tone light, hoping for a pleasant, lasting conversation.

Ron obliged. "Oh, I thought I'd head on over to see Ginny for a bit. She said she'd be working till it closed tonight. You wanna come?"

"Yea, alright. What about today... how's it been?"

"Mate, I'm knackered. Who knew they'd work the new recruits so hard?" Ron sounded faintly bemused, and Harry resisted the urge to say that they _had_ been warned - several times, in fact - by Tonks, that 'Mad-Eye'll work you to the bone for the first few months'. He simply smiled encouragingly as Ron continued on with a tale of Emmeline Vance's recent attempts to track down a suspected ex-Voldemort sympathiser in the Scottish Highlands - "Apparently, the idiot won't stay still long enough to be tracked - causing a lot of trouble, that one, let me tell you..." - which lasted until the pair were ready to Apparate to Diagon Alley.

Appearing in the courtyard outside The Leaky Cauldron with twin cracking sounds, the pair strolled down the cobbled street, stopping outside Quality Quidditch Supplies as always, looking in at the new Thunderclap - _'The fastest broom yet!' _- and sighing in awe as thy did. The broom had only been released the previous week, and had caused quite a stir in the Quidditch circles.

Harry tore himself away first, continuing on towards the Magical Menagerie, knowing Ron would catch up eventually. He did, and ended up reaching the door first, opening it up for Harry to pass into the crowded, noisy shop. As usual, it smelled strongly of animals - quite appropriate, as the walls were covered from floor to ceiling with cages containing a vast assortment of creatures of all shapes, sizes and colours. Harry felt a grin tug at the corner of his mouth; the place brought back memories of school, of 'small tigers' called Crookshanks and purple toads. Invariably came the recollections of Scabbers the 'rat', but Harry pushed those thoughts aside very quickly. Instead he followed Ron across the wooden floor to where Ginny was attempting to sift through the contents of a newly-arrived box, clipboard and quill in hand.

Her hair was pinned sloppily back, a few long tendrils escaping from the constraint of the red ribbon to fall down her back. She obviously hadn't heard the pair's entrance, seemingly engrossed as she was in counting whatever was in the box.

"Thirteen... fourteen, fifteen - oh, stay still! Now, that's one, and two more makes three... there's another, so four - oh, damn it!" And she threw the clipboard to the countertop, quite upsetting the whistling white rats at its other end.

Ron's smirk was enormous by this point, practically bisecting his face, as he approached the counter. "Now Miss Weasley, that's no way to speak in the presence of customers, is it?"

Ginny spun around so fast that even Harry, Seeker reflexes and all, only saw a blur of movement, and for a split second she looked utterly horrified, before she glowered at Ron and came around the counter, her brown eyes narrowed to feline slits and her red mane swinging as Ron backed away; he'd clearly forgotten just how terrifying his sibling could be. Harry, amused by what was setting itself up to be quite a sparring match, leaned against the counter and allowed the grin he'd felt upon entering the shop to grow wider.

"Don't you _ever_ do that again, Ron!"

"Well if a customer comes in here and you're not paying attention..." Ron was recovering now, his smirk returning as he got into the swing of the 'conversation'.

"Not paying attention? Not... paying... ATTENTION?!" Ginny's voice had risen to a screech on the last word, her tone incredulous. "I was counting Nifflers, you buffoon! I _was_ concentrating, they're hard to count when they're in the box-"

"Ah, so you weren't paying attention to _customers_ then, were you? That's my point, right there!"

Ginny's tirade faltered, as if stunned into silence by her brother's sudden use of reasoned argument as opposed to his usual tactics of teasing and charm.

The girl's momentarily flummoxed face finally broke Harry's resolve, and he found himself roaring with laughter, which only intensified when both Weasleys pivoted towards him, identically confused looks on their freckled faces. He saw Ginny look first at him, then her brother, then him again... and she finally started to giggle. She and Harry's mirth was exacerbated by Ron's continued confusion, and when Ron at last saw the funny side and joined in, it took the threesome several moments to stop the laughter they had succumbed to, particularly Harry, who had found the whole scene to be just what he needed after a busy and serious day at the Ministry.

He settled himself against the counter, leaning back on his elbows while Ginny put the Nifflers - still in their box - in the back room of the shop, and Ron browsed, stopping to gaze thoughtfully at some mokes near the window. He thought suddenly, that he was in the best mood he'd known for... well, he wasn't sure _how_ long, but it'd been in a long while since a good mood had lasted much longer than a burst of laughter or a good joke. He was amazed to find that he was perfectly content here, among the chirping and squawking with Ron and his little sister. _Though_, Harry thought honestly, _she stopped being _just_ that a long time ago._

He was just enjoying the moment when two things happened at once. Firstly, Ron muttered an oath and pressed himself as close to the front window as he could, and just as Harry turned to enquire after Ron he heard Ginny squeal indignantly from the back room. Quickly assessing the situation and deciding that the elder Weasley seemed more angry than endangered Harry switched his attention to the younger redhead, crossing the shop to discover the reason for her outburst.

~~~

Ginny huffed as she lowered the box of Nifflers to the ground in the dim back room. It was much quieter back here, as the majority of animals resided in the main body of the shop. This room only held those creatures sensitive to noise or light, or any newly-arrived animals, such as the gold-seekers Ginny had just brought in. Looking quickly into the shop to check whether any customers were present and seeing only Ron and Harry, she ducked back into the darker room.

She had not seen either of the boys at any great length since the celebration held for them about ten days ago; she had heard how the pair had been run off their feet, as Tonks had recounted Mad-Eye's habitual 'toughening up' of the newbies by making them do as much as he could get away with when the girls had lunched with Hermione earlier that week. Ginny had laughed heartily over this, particularly as she had heard all about Tonks' own experiences and imagined the pair running around Level Two of the Ministry like deranged chickens let loose. And yet she had found herself feeling a twinge of sympathy for them, sure they would end up shattered, just as they had during the final stages of the Second War. Curiously, her sympathy had lain especially with _Harry_, instead of her brother. He had looked so tired in the kitchen of The Burrow...

Shaking her head to clear her swirling thoughts, Ginny turned to leave, intending to return to the boys and enquire as to their plans for the night; Colin was covering a story in his home county and would be spending the night at his parents' house, and she was for some reason reticent to return to her empty home. She was awarded a glimpse of what it must be like for Harry, returning to Grimmauld place night after night... but at least her flat hadn't once belonged to the only _real_ family she'd ever known. If she'd been Harry, she could _never_ have lived in Sirius' house.

Ginny suppressed a small shudder at her own maudlin thoughts, forcing her mind onto the task at hand; checking the animals in the room were all safe and secure before locking the door - the _last_ thing she needed was for the new shipment to be devoured by Shackle, the decidedly anti-social Kneazle in the corner. Shackle's patented suspicion and loathing of anyone had made him a nightmare, and he had to be locked up in the back room. _Pity, really_, Ginny thought, reaching into his cage to check the hinges hadn't come loose again, _Because he really is quite a pretty cat when you thi-_

Her thought was cut short with a loud, pained noise as Shackle's paw - sleek, black and clawed - snapped out faster than a Snitch and slashed her across the back of her hand. Ginny examined her hand, looking carefully at the deep scratches as they started to bleed... and sting. She hissed in a breath, stamped her foot in a decidedly petulant manner, and flexed her hand experimentally.

The stinging increased tenfold and she bit her lip, resigning herself to a round of first aid. She had just about reached the door when it opened before her, and Harry's stood there.

"You ok? I heard you yell."

She glanced at her hand as she held it up to Harry, seeing him wince in sympathy. "It's nothing, really - just Shackle. Hurts, though."

"Yea..." he said, taking her hand gently as they both stepped back into the better-lit main shop. He looked critically at it, before realising something. "Who's Shackle?"

Ginny giggled, despite the smarting of her hand. "Oh, he's this Kneazle we have - total idiot, he hates people - and he didn't like having his cage inspected."

"Hmm..." Harry replied, smiling along with her and looking back up at her face. "Where's your first aid stuff?"

"Oh, there's some Disinfectant Potion under the counter, I think."

"Right then, come on," and Harry led her over, reached beneath the scrubbed wooden top and pulled out the bottle of purple potion. Ginny noted absently that her brother appeared to have attached himself to the window like a limpet, and was muttering curses under his breath, seemingly doing both without blinking or breathing. She shrugged; her brothers were all mysteries wrapped in enigmas to her.

Harry had carefully soaked a piece of cloth with the potion, and was hovering, looking apprehensive. "This might sting a bit..."

"Alright then - it smarts enough already so just do it." And Ginny set her shoulders and gave Harry a determined nod.

As soon as the potion touched her skin, a faint smoke arose from the cuts, but Ginny was too busy trying not to wince like a total girl that she didn't see it. She did, however, feel Harry move to throw the cloth into the concealed rubbish bin and then-

"Well, I'm no Healer so I can't close the cuts, but this should do." And Ginny opened her eyes to watch Harry, who held the ostentatious honour of being the student who spent the most time in the Hospital Wing, apply a bandage Charmed to soothe the skin. 

Ginny examined the neatly-applied bandage with appreciation. "Thanks Harry, it feels much better."

"It's ok," he replied, giving another tired yet genuine smile, like she had seen during their last conversation, and she returned it with a grateful one of her own.

After a brief exchange of smiles they both turned, and is if by some silent accord, to see what had been badgering Ron. Ginny saw immediately, however, that whatever it had been had now gone as her brother was sulking not three feet from them, glaring at the window as if daring it to show him something else unpleasant.

"Ron?" she called, making him turn round and lessen the intensity of his glare... slightly. "What is it?"

"Malfoy," he snarled, jabbing a finger in the vague direction of Diagon Alley, "Out there. Lording it up like he's got the same right to be here as us. It makes me so angry. I could just-"

"Do something stupid?" Ginny interrupted, looking from her brother's fury to his friend's newly gained scowl. "Oh, for Merlin's sake! Look at you... _both_ of you! Wasting your time on _him.._. He doesn't deserve it."

"Doesn't deserve it?" Ron's volume had cranked itself up, as had his foul mood. "His family's _horrible_, Ginny! They were in on all the plans, they probably _organised_ some of the attacks and he's gone _free_ when he should be rotting in Azkaban with the Dementors. You wouldn't understand-" He broke off, realising his error.

Ginny had gone white with fury; how _dare_ Ron tell her she wouldn't understand? Had she not been involved at _all_ then? She'd hid in a corner and let _them_ do all the work, had she? She was just about to launch herself at Ron - possibly physically - when Harry's hand closed around her upper arm.

"Enough. Ron, she's right - we shouldn't waste our time on him. And I _know_..." he cut in, seeing Ron about to start yelling again. "But Gin, don't kill Ron, ok? So let's all just... _calm down._"

Both Weasleys stared at Harry, dumbstruck - Ron seemed to have lost the power of speech - but eventually Ginny sighed cathartically.

"Ok... you're right." She straightened up, smiling at Ron and Harry in turn. "Let's change the subject, shall we? I had a question, before we got... _interrupted._ Or, in my case, injured." She indicated her bound hand to Ron, who drew his brows together, puzzled. Ginny hurried on, not in the mood for brotherly fussing. "Anyway, I was wondering what you two were up to tonight - thought you might like to pop over for dinner or something." She smiled, trying to ignore the amazed way Harry had reacted to being included.

Ron looked immediately contrite. "Sorry, Gin - I've got a date with Hermione tonight..." He flushed, causing his sister and friend to grin wickedly, though incredibly both refrained from teasing him.

Ginny turned to Harry, lifting her chin to look into his face; Harry was a little taller than her. "Well? What about you? Got any plans?"

She saw Harry hedge, preparing to duck and avoid is she was correct, and barely avoided a tired groan. "Colin's not going to be there, Harry."

She saw Ron prick his ears up at this, and reined in the urge to smack her brother upside his head; he had never given up on the idea that Ginny would stop 'dating complete tosspots' and would start making moon-eyes at his best friend again like she had at age eleven. He could be so stubborn at times it made her want to _scream..._

So caught up was she in _not_ harming her brother that she nearly died of shock when Harry cut into her thoughts with, "Okay. Yea, I'd love to come. If..." he paused, "That's alright."

Recovering quickly, she spoke far too quickly for her own liking when she said, "Yea, that's fine. Reallyreallyfine. You can come round about... eight? Yea, eight's a good time..." The redhead then promptly gave herself a mental slap; since _when_ did she _babble?_

But Harry was giving her that trademark smile again, and Ginny decided to let it go and just smile amicably at him and her brother, who was smirking again.

"So..." Ron looked positively evil now, his smirk threatening to crack his head in two. "You two have... _fun_ tonight, won't you? Bye, Gin." He turned to go, looking over his shoulder. "Harry? You coming?"

Harry had been sharing an apologetic look with the younger Weasley, sympathising with her over the teasing. In the years since he had been fully initiated into their madcap family he had received his own fair share of taunts. At Ron's voice, however, he broke off, jogging over to the door and opening it. Both boys glanced back and smiled - one grin wide and cheeky, the other more subtle and guarded - before they left, the door swinging shut with a soft click.

Ginny sighed; she had to get home and cook dinner soon, plus tidy up the mess of photos Colin was _bound_ to have left on the table. But first, she had Nifflers to count.

~~~

Well, finally - this chapter was, for some unknown reason, a real beast to get going. It's now done, though, so thank you SO much for all of the wonderful reviews and please keep reviewing!


	4. These Moments

A/N: First of all, I am so sorry that this has taken so long - but I'm leaving school in about 7 weeks and the work's just been piling up and up and _up, _So... yeah, sorry. And yes, I'm making you wait for The Dinner, there's a flashback first for behold, I am evil. This chapter's also longer than the previous ones, in a rather pathetic attempt to make up for the long wait. And just as a point of reference for the people who, like me, struggle with the timelines, August 1996 is a month before Harry starts his sixth year, and March 2001 is the 'present' of my story. And as a quick little addendum, the chapter title came from the song 'Givin' Up On You' by Lara Fabian.

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Chapter Four - These Moments

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__

~August, 1996~

Ginny sat opposite Harry at one end of the kitchen table, surrounded by milling Order members and attendant extras; her mother was fussing over dinner, a cheery Tonks and a studious Bill were being shown a map of someplace-or-other by the eternally patient Kingsley, Lupin was nursing a cup of tea a little further down the table, and the kitchen was overall a hubbub of activity. However two voices were rising above the general chatter, and grew and grew in intensity until eventually their only accompaniment was silence, the inhabitants of the kitchen slowly turning their attention towards the ruckus.

Ginny risked a glance at Harry, and caught his piercing gaze. He was showing a rare spurt of awareness and interest, and seemed to be trying to catch her gaze as well. She shared a quick understanding grin with him before turning her attention, like her companion, back to the hour's entertainment; Ron vs. Hermione, round... she had lost count long ago. Their bickering - which had seemed to have tapered off over the previous school year - had taken a dramatic upturn since Hermione's arrival ten days prior; the pair had quarrelled over everything, from Voldemort's plans to the importance of matching socks. Most people paid them no mind anymore, dismissing it as either teenage squabbling or repressed true love (Ginny's inner romantic and insider knowledge defintiely favoured the latter), but this new battle of Grimmauld Place's own epic war seemed to be attention-worthy. Ginny decided that this sudden interest _must_ come from the fact that Ron appeared - quite amazingly - to be winning, while Hermione floundered. She watched, entranced, as the bickering continued, the duo apparently blissfully unaware of their tacit audience.

"Hermione, you can't do that! You just can't! What if someone reads it? What if You-Know-Who gets it, huh? Then what?"

"Ron! Nothing's going to happen! I'm not even sending it, I told you-"

"Damn straight you're not going to send it! As if it wasn't bad enough that you still talk to the duck-footed tosser-"

"I'm perfectly within my rights to speak to who I want, Ronald Weasley, and it's none of your concern-"

"His teacher was a Death Eater, Hermione! He went to Durmstrang! He's the enemy, he can't be trusted, don't you get it?"

Hermione's murderous, reddening face made it clear that she did not get it, not at all.

"You know what?" Ron continued, careless of the imminent explosion, "Just go on! Go back upstairs and finish your letter and get us all killed. It'll be alright, I'm sure Vicky'll still l-"

"DON'T CALL HIM VICKY!"

The aftermath of the explosion was awful. No one had ever heard Hermione scream quite like that before; hiss, sigh, bewail and bemoan over the years, but never - ever - had she been heard to shriek. She stood there, eyes furious, cheeks aflame, and as Ginny looked uncertainly between the fury of Hermione, the draining anger and dawning terror of Ron, the anxious concern of Harry, and finally the shocked faces of the general kitchen populace, she felt faintly nauseous. She pulled her knees up until she was curled in her seat and raised a hand to fiddle anxiously with her bottom lip.

No one moved, no one spoke, even the very brickwork of the house seemed to be holding its breath, all afraid to worsen the dire state of affairs. Ginny couldn't bring herself to look away as Hermione and her brother stared each other down. Ron lost the battle for dominance, looking away to the table where she and Harry sat, a desperate plea for help evident. But neither could - or even would - help him out. The hatred and terrible jealousy of Viktor Krum had always been Ron's, and Ron's alone. Hermione, growing aware of her circumstances as if just waking up, started slightly, gave a small squeak, and fled the room as if a rabid invisible Hippogriff were chasing her.

Ron sank down beside Ginny, his head in his hands, looking perfectly wretched, and Ginny gazed at him for a few seconds, worry clouding her eyes. The youngest Weasley turned to Harry, who was staring at Ron in a manner quite similar to her own had she only known it, and raised an eyebrow; a wordless request to stay with her brother. Harry nodded, brows slightly furrowed, as if this were obvious, and jerked his head slightly toward the kitchen door through which Hermione had fled. Ginny nodded and, sliding to her feet, took off after Hermione.

She eventually found her, and even then it was only thanks to Crookshanks; the faithful cat had obviously decided that his mistress needed more help than he could provide and when Ginny returned to their bedroom for the second time she had found the ginger feline awaiting her, an impatient look on his face as though she had kept him waiting, and done it on purpose to boot. The young redhead let him lead the way, following the bottle-brush tail up the stairs, and she finally found Hermione sitting on the large windowsill of the living room (as they had presumed it to be). On their arrival the previous summer it had contained a few moth-eaten sofas, a rotten cupboard, and several vicious ceremonial plates which seemed to have been Hexed into attempting to behead anyone who touched them resting upon the mouldering mantle. The room had been cleaned up considerably since, and it had been decorated in a decidedly favourable way, in Ginny's opinion. Pity that it still lacked furniture, though.

She crossed the wooden floor, knowing full well that the elder girl knew she was there, despite a complete lack of acknowledgement. Instead she stared out of the window, a forlorn and furious look in her eyes, as if she was angry but knew the futility of that anger. Ginny stood in front of her, not speaking - she wouldn't have had a clue what to say, anyway. She knew that Ron had been horrible lately, and said some vile things, but what if he was right, at least a little bit?

Ginny stopped that train of thought dead - now was not the time for internal debating or sibling loyalty. Sometimes being a girl was more important than being a sister, and this was most definitely one of those times. She came back to the present when Hermione curled her feet under, giving Ginny room to sit facing her, which the younger girl did, albeit with trepidation.

Ginny allowed Hermione to sulk in the silence for a few minutes; the redhead was making it perfectly clear that she wouldn't try to make the older girl talk. She knew, from experience, that the brunette would only talk candidly when she was ready. Ginny watched her friend fiddle with her hair, continually pushing the bushy mass behind her ears, her eyes losing their lacklustre fury and gaining sorrow and a distinctive, sharp resentment. She eventually sat up straighter, looking Ginny full in the eyes as if laying a challenge, before bursting out, "Boys are so dense, aren't they?"

Ginny felt that nodding was best at this juncture, and let the impassioned Hermione continue with, "No matter _how_ simple the matter, how _plain,_ they see it their own way and won't change. It makes me so-"

"Angry?"

"Yes! And..." The indignation drained from Hermione's face as if Ginny's interjection had pulled some invisible plug. She dropped her chin into her hand, a frustrated puff of air emphasising the motion and causing a lock of ever-wayward hair to dance in the slight draft created. "I'm fed up, Gin. I don't want to fight all the time, there's enough to deal with already, but he just won't let things go, and-" Another sigh, this one more epic than a mere exhalation, and Ginny leaned forward with a comforting hand.

"You know, I don't think Ron really cares about the safety thing, not in the way he was carrying on about, at any rate. I think it's..." Ginny was extremely reticent to carry on here - the fight after the Yule Ball of her third year was a sore subject, "...almost like third year, with the Yule Ball? When he picked out all those faults because he was... maybe... perhaps... jealous...?"

"But he's _not_ jealous, Gin." Her friend's voice was tired. "He's _not,_ because even Ron's not dense enough to think that this could _help_ things-"

"Ron doesn't think." Ginny quirked her lip into a half-smile. "In fact, I think Percy stole Ron's brains very early on - it's the only explanation I can find."

The quiet interruption and subsequent quip shut the elder girl up. She looked at her friend and long-time confidante for a second, then let forth a small giggle, which quickly escalated and Ginny soon found herself chuckling along with Hermione.

When they had settled down, both girls hopped from the windowsill as if by common accord, and wandered back to their own room, where Crookshanks was waiting for them. They resolved to stay there for a bit, and as Ginny shut the door and settled herself at the foot of Hermione's bed for a longer chat, Ginny reflected on the sheer stupidity of boys in general, and her brother in particular. She only hoped that Harry had at least prevented Ron from doing anything even more stupid... but her expectations were not high. He was, after all, only Harry.

~~~

Harry stared at Ron after Ginny left, his thoughts whirling as if he had inhaled a Giddiness Potion - Snape's latest, particularly nasty invention. Had the circumstances been different Harry would have thought that fairly likely, given Snape's predilection for tormenting him, but the continuing presence of a dejected Ron and the returning of the daily bustle to his surroundings persuaded him otherwise.

He stayed there for interminable minutes, watching the top of Ron's head with mixed worry and anxiety - he didn't like to see his friend so obviously upset, but what he was meant to do about it he had even less idea of than how to make himself operate at least semi-normally since the affair of the Department last term. He resolved to make an effort, though - it was the deal; whenever a fight had occurred this summer which resulted in Ron or Hermione storming away (and it was usually Hermione) Ginny would comfort her while he dealt with Ron. But right now, after a fight which had somehow seemed to be just that little bit _more_ than their usual fare of verbal sparring, the Boy Who Lived was suddenly the Boy Who Was Clueless. He could almost imagine the scathing newspaper headlines in his head, Merlin only knew he'd seen enough of them the past few years.

Harry's gaze was suddenly unable to focus on the top of the redhead's... head, as Ron had raised his head and lowered his hands, assuming a more normal sitting position. He looked dully at Harry, his face still a mixture of terrified, furious and thunderstruck which in almost any other situation would have been comical. But, like Harry's earlier thoughts of Snape, the dire straits Ron seemed to have landed himself in forced Harry to concentrate on his companion, dismissing his own tempestuous temper and inappropriate humour in the face of his best friend's anguish.

Ron seemed to be making a concerted effort to find his voice, and when he did, it sounded rather shell shocked, in Harry's opinion, and decidedly disjointed. "She - did... Did she really - yell-?"

"Yes," Harry provided, nodding to make sure the answer got through to Ron. This did not improve the giddy feeling of moments before, however, and he stopped the movement very quickly.

"But..." Ron seemed confused. "Why? I didn't... She - as usual - missed the point..." And with that somewhat less than coherent sentence imparted, he sank his head onto the tabletop. Harry watched in silence, then carefully tried to start again.

"Er... What was the point... exactly?" He felt stupid for asking, but it was _always_ best to check in these situations.

Ron's head shot back up, and he mouthed like a fish out of water. Harry simply sat there, hoping his face portrayed open curiosity and not anything which could make Ron bolt, shout, or both. The mad urge to grin at Ron's aghast expression and continuing denseness, for example.

"Well - I..." Ron floundered, gaping and gesticulating vaguely, "Point? Well... the thing is - she..." An enormous sigh as if the huge exhalation would provide answers. "Girls, mate. I will never understand them."

"Neither will I," Harry said, feeling slightly safer now, as the non-understanding of girls was something of a specialty of his - proven most recently by Cho, although if girls were as complex as they led all men to believe then he had plenty more head-bashing sessions to come.

The two boys shared a rueful smile, before Ron stood and shook off the confused, mournful look, mercifully replacing it with the Ron that Harry could handle - smiling and clear-eyed.

"So, mate," said the newly-cheerful boy, "Fancy a game of chess?"

"Alright."

~~~

It was just after eleven that night that Ginny awoke, echoes of eleven-year-old self still ringing in her ears. She often had muddled dreams of her first year, even all these years later, and always she awoke with a start but not a cry, hearing her own pleas fall on the deaf ears of a darkly beautiful boy. She may have moved on from the horrors of Tom, but she had never forgotten, even if others had.

Knowing from experience that she wouldn't sleep any more at the moment she swung her feet to the floor, standing and crossing the room with feline stealth, before inching the door open, her glances alternating between the hallway beyond and the quietly sleeping Hermione. Finding nothing amiss with either scene, she crept out of the room, sneaking the door closed and already counting the floorboards - she knew the seventh one after the portrait of Merciless Meredith of Morecombe creaked, and prayed that the horrid portrait was asleep. If she decided to start talking (or more accurately sneering in a manner eerily similar to that of Draco Malfoy) then she wouldn't shut up and Ginny would be mother-henned back to bed by a mother who was sure to only irritate her. No, what this Weasley needed was a cup of sweet tea and to curl up by the kitchen fire, which always burned merrily in its grate.

Passing the gently snoring portrait with great care, the redheaded girl crept speedily to the kitchen, her bare feet growing cold; she must remember to put socks on if this happened again, or she'd develop blocks of ice instead of feet, which would prove most impractical.

Swinging the door at the end of the hall open, she sighed at the pleasant prospect of the burning fire, but her relief was short-lived as she spotted the unmistakable shadow of someone's profile upon the wall. Knowing that if it was an adult running would only anger whoever it was further, she slowly turned to see who was casting the shadow, and sighed with near-joy at seeing Harry sitting at the table, and not Moody or, Merlin forbid, her mother. He seemed to be having a similar reaction; his eyes were slowly returning to their normal size and his posture relaxing somewhat. 

She almost skipped across the room, partly out of relief and partly to touch the freezing flagstones as little as possible, and sat opposite him, just as they had seated themselves earlier. She had not seen either him or her brother since the squabble earlier, as Hermione had requested that the two girls eat in their room; Ginny had managed to convince her fussing mother that her friend would be fine as long as she stayed in the quiet for a bit and that yes, the two girls did want dinner please, thank you very much. The pair had chatted and commiserated until they had grown sleepy and crawled into bed, only for the younger of the two to rise barely two hours later.

Remembering her initial desire for tea, and noticing that Harry had no drink, she quickly jogged over to get some water boiling, continually bouncing from one foot to the other in a way she was sure Harry must find decidedly strange. She was eternally glad when the water was ready and she could return to the table with two steaming mugs, and was pleasantly surprised to find that her companion had seen her intentions and had fetched milk and sugar from the pantry. Grinning, she handed over one of the mugs as she sank down, curling her feet up and feeling their coldness seep into her legs through the fabric of her pyjamas and dressing gown.

Harry had taken the mug and was looking at her in sympathy. "Cold feet?" he asked, quietly.

"Yes. I must remember some socks next time - how about you?" she asked, eager to start a conversation, even if it was over something as banal as socks.

Harry pointed to his own feet, encased in knobbly grey socks and angled towards the fire. "The only thing these socks have ever come in useful for... except muffling that sneakoscope Ron gave me."

"You mean the one you gave to Crookshanks?"

"I wouldn't say _gave,_ exactly. He more... took it." Harry looked over at her, smiling slightly. "He doesn't like me or Ron very much, so I don't argue with him."

"I don't think he _dislikes_ you, really..." Ginny mused, propping her chin on her hand in a meditative manner. "I think it's more that he sees you as..." She paused, afraid to set off his phenomenal temper and ruin the pleasant atmosphere of the late-night kitchen.

"What?"

"Well, he _is_ part Kneazle, so it's nothing personal, but I think he sees you two as being kind of... well... stupid." She grimaced apologetically, taking a sip of her tea to give her something to do in the wake of her assessment.

Harry looked vaguely amazed, before pushing his glasses up his nose - a habit he did so often that nobody really paid it mind anymore - and wrapped his hands around his teacup again. "Great," he intoned, staring down at the table, "I'm looked down upon by a cat."

Ginny couldn't help it; she giggled. Completely inappropriate as she knew that she should be trying to cajole Harry into cheering up a bit, but his tone had been so dismal and cataclysmic that the phrase he had uttered had sounded immensely funny to her in the subdued ambience of the room.

Harry stared at her, shocked again, and although Harry didn't speak much these days Ginny had the distinct impression that her sudden laughter had rendered him speechless. The idea made her grin wildly at him across the table, tossing her long ponytail back over her shoulder as she did so. After a few seconds of silence in which Harry blinked owlishly and Ginny smirked in an uncanny imitation of the twins, the pair both giggled into the quiet. The moment ended and the late-night atmosphere seeped back into the room, surrounding the pair once more with its quiet and flickering firelight.

"So..." Harry said, as if unsure how to continue. Ginny raised her eyebrows inquisitively, waiting. The dark-haired boy shrugged, not knowing how to continue. Finally, he settled upon, "How's Hermione?"

Ginny's eyebrows lowered, her lopsided grin making a brief appearance before she answered. "Oh, she's fine now - but tell that stupid brother of mine to watch it, will you? After what she did to Rita Skeeter I daren't even _consider_ what she'd do to darling Ronald."

"I'm glad she's alright," he said after a quiet moment in which both sipped their tea. "She quite... well, she was..."

Seeing Harry flounder, Ginny was reminded of Ron - those two were, in some respects, more alike than they'd ever know. The thought was not only amusing, but also comforting - having dealt with Ron her whole life, it meant that Harry seemed a little less of a mystery; when in doubt, she treated him like Ron. He was, after all, an honorary Weasley - why _shouldn't_ she treat him like a slightly dopey older brother?

With that thought in mind, she struck up a conversation about what should be done with the Gryffindor Quidditch team come the start of school next month. The pair chatted amicably, batting ideas back and forth for a few hours before retiring back to their rooms. The rest of the night, for both of them, was blissfully free of any more nightmares.

~~~

__

~March, 2001~

Harry was running late. He had gotten back to Grimmauld Place after a quick drink with Ron, planning to relax for a bit before heading over to Ginny's, but had fallen asleep on the sofa. Waking up and glancing at the clock, he had thrown himself into a whirlwind of action, showering and changing in record time before diving downstairs at breakneck speed to check the wards on the back door and generally make sure everything was in order. Stopping beside the hall mirror, he cast a quick glance at his appearance.

Harry had never seen anything truly great about himself; his hair made him look far too scruffy, his glasses were a constant hindrance, and his physique had always tended towards skinny. Not to mention that when not on a broom he had always felt graceless and clumsy compared to some of his peers, who made motion and looking good seem beyond effortless. Gazing deep now, he ran a hand through his wayward hair and sighed; he knew he was running late - only by a few minutes, but late nonetheless - but couldn't quite bring himself to leave. He lingered, waiting for his reflection to give him some great epiphany as to the reason for this sudden change in his status quo. Two weeks ago Ginny would probably rather have kicked him repeatedly than let him into her house, yet here he was, having agreed to dinner with her, albeit an informal one.

The dark-haired boy was forced to admit the real reason for his procrastination, even if it was only to himself; he was worried. Worried because, despite never losing contact with Ginny over the years, he had never really gotten to know her. Thinking back, Harry could now admit that he had always dismissed Ginny before fourth year as little more than Ron's tagalong little sister, and had learned precious little about her, only beginning to know her when they had turned their backs on each other five years ago.

Gathering his Gryffindor courage together, Harry turned almost violently away from the mirror and sprinted back up the stairs to the living room on the second floor, leaving a few owl treats on the windowsill for Hedwig, knowing she preferred to use that window when returning from her hunting jaunts. He then bounded back down the stairs, grabbed a cloak to sling on over his black jeans and turtleneck jumper, before exiting the house and checking for any passing Muggles. Seeing none he concentrated hard and, with a decisive twist of his wand and a crack, was gone.

~~~

Ginny stared meditatively at dinner as it gently cooked on the stove of her small kitchen. She hoped it wouldn't explode or anything equally unpleasant. She wasn't the world's greatest cook, and add into the equation the fact that it was _Harry_, and the situation took on an altogether more daunting air. Her far from rosy acquaintance with the Boy Who Lived would hardly be aided by a ruined dinner and a grumpy Weasley, she was sure.

While relaxing earlier, curled up on the small sofa with a Muggle novel in hand, she had recalled the summer before her fifth year. During that troublesome summer, when panic and suspicion had begun to creep into the wizarding world at large, she and Harry had spent a few nights in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, talking and laughing about silly, childhood things; Quidditch, Professors, and usually the latest row between Ron and Hermione. Those midnight meetings, usually accompanied by tea and the fear of discovery by Mrs Weasley, had been the only time she felt that she had come to see the real Harry; the one who floundered and smiled and made her laugh. The Harry who she had thought she could really be friends with. She wondered what would happen if they were to reach that kind of rapport again.

Casting another wary glance at the meal, she was relieved to see that it still resembled something edible, and prayed to anyone who'd listen that it stayed that way. Further obsessive pot-watching loomed in her near future - even her abysmal Divination abilities did not hide _that_ from her - and she quickly clipped her hair back with something close to savagery. As she yanked the long mane of hair back into a simple ponytail she reflected with mild irritation that it would need cutting soon; it was getting too long for her liking, hanging a few inches below her shoulder blades as it did.

Her hair and dinner worries were abruptly cut short by a ring of the doorbell. Ginny jumped slightly, cast a final worried glance around the kitchen and, seeing no immediate worries, made her way to the door. Just as she reached the door, the final notes of the chime fading, Ginny couldn't help but cast a cursory glance around her modest living room, checking for nothing amiss. All seemed in order; the small sofa and chair, the recently cleared coffee table, the merry fire, the bedroom doors carefully closed, and the multitudes of Colin's photos adorning their designated section of wall. Nodding slightly, she swung the door open.

~~~

Harry stood on the doorstep, double-checking the address Ron had given him - the last thing he needed right now was to go to the wrong place - and, convinced it was indeed the right place, rang the doorbell.

It rang out, clear and slightly shrill, playing some short, unidentifiable melody and Harry stood, waiting for a response. After a few seconds of shuffling his feet and wondering whether it _was_ the wrong place after all, the door opened and Ginny Weasley was smiling guardedly at him.

"Hi, Harry," she said, opening the door wider for him to enter. "Thanks for coming."

"Oh, it's... okay," Harry replied, handing over his cloak at her signalled request and looking around the small flat with open curiosity; the layout of a sibling's house was not a normal topic of conversation between himself and Ron and, truthfully, he had had no idea what he ought to expect. Some deep part of his brain always associated Weasley rooms with Chudley Cannons posters, but he realised that stemmed from sleeping in Ron's room for all those years. Of course, when he stayed over now, he had Percy's room... Harry shook his head, determined not to think about the events surrounding Percy's... condition. It was hardly a suitable dinnertime topic, after all.

"Okay then," Ginny had hung up his cloak and was now standing slightly to his left, and Harry could see a small kitchen behind her. "Why don't you... make yourself comfortable and I'll... see to dinner. It shouldn't be too much longer."

Harry nodded, waiting until Ginny had resumed what he assumed to be her previous position in the kitchen - leaning over the pots with her brow furrowed intensely and fiddling with her bottom lip - before settling himself down on the two-person sofa. The seat offered him a good spot from which to examine the room, a task he swiftly set about. First, he watched the fire, momentarily mesmerised, as he always was, by its ever-changing beauty. Harry had always liked fire, even excluding the pleasant memories that he associated with it, namely cosy nights beside the common room fireplace. He had always admired something which could be so beautiful, so full of golds and reds and everything so very Gryffindor, and yet be so dangerous and destructive. In a very abstract way, it reminded him of Ginny.

His eyes eventually strayed to the rest of the room, taking in its small yet pleasant proportions. He could tell, even with such little inspection, that this place was definitely a home. The books on the shelf were well-thumbed, the Muggle novels alongside the guides to photography mingling with the odd photo album or scrapbook. The sofa cushions sagged slightly at the edges, where people had pulled their feet up. The coffee table, though now cleared, had a chipped corner and a cup mark on two of its corners. And, finally, there was the wall to the right of the fireplace, which was festooned with assorted photographs, both wizard and Muggle.

Ginny soon returned, two trays bearing plates floating before her and a nervous twinge to her expression. Harry smiled and nodded a thank you as she handed him his tray before settling beside him with her own.

"Sorry there's no dining table or anything. Hardly room for it here, really..." she tailed off, seeming nervous once again. Harry stared at her, waiting for her to continue, which she duly did. Glancing at the food, she raised her eyes to his. "Well, anyway... the food's not been anywhere _near_ the twins, so no worries about becoming something... weird, but as I'm sure you've heard I'm a fairly poor cook, so my apologies in advance."

Harry smiled again, hoping his face was suitably reassuring as well as showing his amusement at the barb about the twins. "I'm sure it'll be fine..." he paused, watching her uncertain face. "And I like the place... It's nice." That said, he tucked into his meal.

As they both ate a fairly pleasant meal (Harry thought Ginny had grossly underestimated her own skills) they chatted, guardedly at first, and always carefully avoiding war issues or either's current living arrangements. These exclusions meant that the pair were confined mostly to small talk, but when the topic drifted off towards the twins' new business towards the end of the meal the conversation became a lot freer and more cheerful. Ginny Banished their trays and plates to the kitchen sink while they finished up their discussion, both smiling and laughing heartily when they remembered the summer before Ginny's sixth year, when the twins had used any and all residents of the house as testers for their new products. Harry's inner monologue wryly reminded him that the twins hadn't changed all that much since then.

Harry remained in the living room area as Ginny made her excuses and, after untying and shaking loose her hair, had set off to make them both coffee, he reflected on the evening so far. It hadn't been as terrible as he'd feared it might have been, having earlier envisioned protracted silences and shifty looks characterising the evening. Instead they'd gotten along surprisingly well, and Harry was amazed at himself to realise that he'd hardly brooded all evening - like before, in the Magical Menagerie, Ginny's presence seemed to drive away the grey fog from his mind. Made bolder by this new epiphany, Harry decided that the pictures on the wall facing him were just too enticing to be ignored any longer, and got up to take a closer look.

There were literally dozens of photographs adorning the wall, but Harry was drawn to those of people he recognised. There were Neville and Ginny, seated on a sofa in Gryffindor tower, cheerfully waving at him from their frame... and to the right were Hermione and Ron, snoozing by the lake while his sixteen-year-old self looked curiously around... and further down was the Gryffindor Quidditch team after a victory, cheering and laughing... and right in the middle of the wall, right at Harry's eye line, was a photograph of Ginny and Colin. Harry examined it closely; it had to have been taken recently, as the pair in the picture looked exactly as they had a few days ago at the Burrow. The pair were seated on the back porch of the Burrow, squashed together with arms around each others shoulders, and both were laughing and grinning at the camera. It reminded Harry very much of a photo taken of he, Ron and Hermione after the Yule ball of their seventh year, just after a ferocious snowball fight by the lake.

So absorbed was he in watching the pair in the photo that he hardly noticed Ginny approach him with his coffee, her on clutched in her other hand. He turned, took it with a grateful smile, and turned his attention back to the wall. He could see Ginny scanning the wall from beside him, occasionally smiling slightly as one of the photos gained her attention, but eventually she was staring at the same picture as Harry, and her eyes grew apprehensive.

Seeing all this out of the corner of his eyes - well, more than the corner really, if he was _completely_ honest - he as not caught totally unawares when Ginny turned to him, eyes bright yet guarded when she asked, "Why don't you like Colin, Harry?"

~~~

Ginny, exiting the kitchen holding the two mugs of steaming coffee since she didn't trust herself to float them without spilling the lot onto the carpet, saw Harry staring at the wall of pictures. She smiled, knowing how many there were on that wall - she still liked to just stand there sometimes, just watching some of them move and laugh and waving back at the multitudes of faces - and approached Harry quietly, intent on _not_ spilling the coffee.

He turned just as she reached his side, and gave her yet another of those genuine smiles, this one of gratitude, as he took the coffee. Her attention now available to be directed at something other than successfully navigating her living room, she cast a practiced eye over the wall, stopping to smile slightly at a few of her favourites; Neville with a baby plant of some sort, a huge grin on his face... Ron and Hermione at New Year, grinning tipsily and cuddled together... the twins leaning on the counter of their shop, identical grins firmly in place... and finally, her gaze settled on the photo which seemed to be fascinating Harry.

It had been taken at the Burrow a month or so ago, when she and Colin had stopped over after a visit to Dennis' memorial stone and a quick stop by St. Mungo's to visit Percy. The pair had been subdued all afternoon, sitting on the porch step and talking. Finally, towards the end of the afternoon, her mum had suggested that they de-gnome the garden for her, and considering it a suitable distraction they had agreed. It had taken over an hour and the pair had been laughing and much happier when they'd finished. They'd collapsed on the back step of the house again and Mrs Weasley had seized the camera and snapped the pair of them mid hug and laugh. It was one of Ginny's favourite pictures, as it seemed to capture perfectly the relationship she had with her best friend; one of joy despite its coming from a time of such pain.

Watching Harry stare at the photo, she was unsure what to say; the dark-haired boy had never really seemed to like Colin, barely tolerating him before Dennis' death and not at all after, and the redhead was suddenly struck with an undeniable urge to find out _why. _Gathering her courage, she turned her gaze onto Harry, who was looking back at her, and blurted out, "Why don't you like Colin?"

Ginny immediately regretted it; she might not class Harry as anything more than an acquaintance these days, but that was no excuse for being rude - Ginny could almost hear her mother starting in on her, and winced.

Finally risking a glance back at her companion, she was amazed to see that, far from acting as she had come to expect - thunderous, shouting and altogether annoying - the dark-haired man was simply sipping at his coffee, a thoughtful look in his vivid eyes as he watched the smiling duo in the photo. Ginny suddenly thought better of taking back the comment - it was a habit she only resorted to when all else was bound to fail.

"Colin's..." he paused, sipping his coffee and obviously searching for the right words. "Well, he can be a bit... _eager._ Tends to be a bit annoying, especially when he's known me this long. You'd think he'd have learned by now that I don't like that kind of attention. Even if he is... y'know, part of the family or whatever..."

For a second, the redhead had thought that her companion had been about to continue, but Harry's explanation had obviously finished, and his attention had instead switched to a photo of the Weasley family. Ginny remembered it well - it had been taken the week before her second year began, when they had just returned from Egypt. The seven children were grouped around their parents, all unusually freckled, smiling and laughing - Ginny marvelled at how young they all looked. Whenever she looked at that photo, it always struck her with exceptional sharpness that there would never be another photo like that. Accustomed to, if not happy about, the pang in her chest at the thought of her brother, she pushed it aside and concentrated on what Harry had said. It made sense, but the unusual trailing off at the end gave her the distinct impression that Harry was hiding some part of his reasoning from her. Some long-hidden part of her brain perked up, pointing her train of thought in an altogether unwelcome direction; _What if he thinks you and Colin are a couple?_ Ginny shook her head slightly - she'd have to have a stern talk with herself about random and inappropriate thoughts in the near future, because that was just silly. Still, it didn't hurt to make sure the situation was super-clear.

"Well, Colin _can_ be a bit of a handful, can't he?" she sighed, her voice light and affectionate. "When his parents took him out of Hogwarts I forgot, being away from him, just what he could be like when he gets excited. Then, a couple of years ago he turned up at the shop, camera in hand, introduced himself and said he'd been sent to take photos for some article the _Prophet_ was doing on how business was booming, or something. Anyway, we kept in contact after that and bonded over everything we'd shared, everything we had in common. His parents fuss, my mother's... well, _you've_ met her-" The pair stopped to share a quiet laugh; they both understood _perfectly _well how Mrs. Weasley could be. "And other things, obviously; school memories and different people we'd met or kept in contact with - did you know that Vicky Frobisher's going to be a troll trainer? Apparently she was accepted into the program on the condition that she got some experience in working with pre-trained ones first. She's crazy if you ask me, who'd _want_ to work with them? Horrible things... Anyway, Colin and I have been friends ever since, and honestly Harry, he's not _always_ that bad."

Harry looked a lot more comfortable now, he looked less lost in thought and his eyes were amused behind his glasses as he finished off his coffee. Quickly draining her own cup, Ginny Banished both mugs to the kitchen before moving back towards the sofa, curling herself up comfortably at one end. Harry sat, a little less informally at the other end, and Ginny allowed herself to be drawn onto familiar territory; Quidditch. The redhead was amazed, as the pair grew more and more comfortable in the steadily darkening room, how silly it had been to be worried about this evening. Excluding the inevitable awkward moments, this night had been almost as fun as those long ago nights, secreted in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. With a small smile, Ginny reflected that the only thing different now was that they were talking about what they had done, and not Ron and Hermione's latest near-miss. And later still, as the coffee became hot chocolate and the raucous laughter became gentle reminiscence, Ginny couldn't quite decide if she didn't prefer the current situation, just a little bit.

~~~

A/N: Okay, I hope that was to your liking, and the Weasley brother/Percy comments will become clear in time, I promise. Also a huge thank you for all the reviews, they've all been great and please don't forget about me!


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